


Snake's Sick

by HeyMurphy



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Fever, Fluff, M/M, Otasune, Sickfic, Sneezing, this is pre-relationship but it's still really schmoopy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 21:49:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5349737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyMurphy/pseuds/HeyMurphy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snake comes down with a bad cold and it's up to Otacon to help him kick it, provided he doesn't catch it himself...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snake's Sick

**Author's Note:**

> If I don't post this now I'm just gonna keep messing with it for all eternity so yeahhhh let's do this go go GO

“’ _iitkshh_!”

“Oh, good morning.” Otacon looked up from spreading cream cheese on his everything bagel just in time to catch the whip of Snake’s hair as he recovered from a sneeze. Snake sniffed, swiped at his irritated nose, and went to the fridge to browse. He was only wearing a pair of boxers and a snug olive tee, and he kept rubbing at his exposed biceps like he was chilly. There wasn’t much in the fridge—some orange juice, eggs, a few beers, leftover pizza. He took the pizza box to the table and started to eat.

Otacon raised an eyebrow. “You’re gonna eat cold pizza for breakfast? Let me make you an omelet or something.”

“Why’d you let me sleep in,” Snake grumbled with his mouth full.

Otacon frowned. “There’s not much to do today research-wise, and I figured maybe your body was trying to tell you something. You feeling okay?”

“Mm-hm.” Snake swallowed hard and coughed a little. He ate the rest of the pizza in silence. His eyes were still squinted and bleary like he was half asleep, and more than once Otacon thought he had dozed off mid-chew. It wasn’t like Snake to be so out of sorts. Usually he was the first one up, awake at the crack of dawn to get in his exercise regimen as the coffee percolated. But today he was just so bleh. Otacon couldn’t think of another descriptor quite as perfect for Snake’s haggard appearance and slouchy chair-sitting.

Bleh.

Snake breathed in rough through his nose, clearly congested from the sound of it. Otacon opened his mouth, ready to ask if he needed a tissue, but the sudden look on his face stopped him short. Snake’s brow creased, his eyebrows peaking up in the middle in an expression of desperation Otacon had never seen him wear. His nostrils flared a little in time with the catching of his breath, and his eyes pinched shut. “’ _iiktchh_!” He caught the sneeze tightly in his fist, shoulders relaxing after with a stuffy groan. “Gghn…”

Otacon forced down the color that rose in his cheeks. He really wasn’t accustomed to seeing his friend so frail. “Ohh, Snake.” He rounded the table and pressed the back of his palm to Snake’s forehead to test for a fever.

“Mhgn…” Snake leaned his weight into Otacon’s touch. He was burning up.

“Yup, just as I suspected. You’ve definitely come down with something.”

“I’ll work through it,” Snake said, though he bristled in an involuntary shiver. “A couple pills and I’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

And Otacon saw, all right—saw as Snake’s condition declined in a rapid downward spiral through the late morning and early afternoon. He couldn’t go ten minutes without a sneeze, each one harsher and more draining than the last. His eyes were rimmed in red and constantly watering, and a patchy fever blush colored his otherwise pallid skin. By the four o’clock hour he was sifting through the same dozen or so sheets of intel, nodding off with a slump of his head and then snapping back to alertness a second later. Otacon finally had to intervene. “Go to bed, Snake.”

“I’m good.” Snake widened his eyes and moved the paper further away, closer, further again. When he realized Otacon was still hovering over him, he cleared his throat. “Hm. Guess I’ve read this one.” And he picked up another page.

“You’ve read _that_ one, too.”

Snake squinted. “I don’t think so.”

“Is it that first-person account from that Russian naval officer?”

Snake continued squinting and after a lengthy minute he replied, “Maybe.”

“It is. It’s the first thing I gave you like two hours ago.” This time Otacon didn’t wait for him to make some kind of excuse. He took hold of Snake’s office chair and swiveled him towards the door. “You’re sick. You’ve _been_ sick. And now you’re going to bed, okay?”

Snake lurched to his feet and didn’t look happy about it. “I’m not tired, Otacon. Give me one of those folders on your desk and I can—”

“NO.” It came out much louder than Otacon intended and Snake actually winced. He sighed and his next words were much gentler. “Please, I know you wanna help, but you’re no good like this. Lie down for a few hours and get your strength back, and then I promise I’ll give you more work to do.”

Snake nodded, finally accepted the order. He lingered in the door frame for a moment, arms drawing around himself to contain his trembling. “Y’know, uh…the heating’s much better in my room. And there’s a desk so you could even, uh…” He trailed off, the lines of his jaw tensing. Otacon fixed him with a curious stare.

“Yeah?”

Snake scratched at the back of his neck. “Nothing. Never mind.”

“Snake,” Otacon chided with a tone of endearment. The man really was terribly uncharacteristic today, and he felt his insides well up with sympathy for him. He knew it wasn’t easy for Snake to allow himself some vulnerability, so he offered him a disarming smile in an attempt to help him out. “Are you trying to ask if I wanna keep you company?”

“What? No.” The flush-red fever color on Snake’s cheeks only grew worse. “No I just thought—I—” But he couldn’t save it, wasn’t in the right state to come up with a hasty denial. He let his hands flop to his side in a gesture of surrender. “I mean, maybe. Yeah. You don’t have to.”

Otacon started packing up his laptop and various folders and binders, coming to join him by the doorway. The conflicted look on Snake’s face was priceless. He obviously hadn’t expected Otacon to be so eager. Otacon readjusted the laptop bag on his shoulder and pushed his glasses up with the corner of a notebook. “Well? C’mon, Snake, lead the way.”

They took up residence in Snake’s bedroom. He hadn’t been exaggerating, it was definitely about ten degrees warmer. Otacon shrugged off his flannel overshirt and got to work setting up his computer on the desk by the window. Once he got everything up and running, he turned to see Snake sitting on the side of the bed, arms once again held snugly against himself.

“Hey, are you cold?” Otacon felt his forehead for a second time and frowned at the sickly heat radiating from his skin. “Hmm. Your fever’s worse. Wait here, I’ll get you something for it.”

Snake sniffled. “’Kay.”

The medicine rack in the pantry was sparse, but there were still a few fat blue pills that promised relief of symptoms and plenty of drowsiness, and Otacon figured Snake would need some medicinal help getting a restful sleep. He brought the pills back with some cool water and Snake seemed appreciative even though he didn’t say anything. The water glass soon sat empty on the nightstand, and Snake buried himself under the mound of blankets on the bed.

Otacon gave the topmost blanket a quick pat-pat. “I’m just gonna be looking through some databases, all right? Let me know if my typing keeps you up.”

Snake sniffled twice this time and nodded. “Sure.” His voice was a bit nasally from the heaviness in his head. Suddenly the breath snagged in his throat and his eyebrows lifted again in that exquisite way that meant a sneeze wasn’t far behind. He managed to yank the covers up around his nose and mouth and let loose a muted “ _htkchh_!” into the fabric. A spent little groan wormed its way from between his lips. He kept his eyes closed and nestled down into the pillows.

“Sleep good, Snake.”

“Mm-hm…”

The first twenty minutes or so passed slowly. Snake would toss and turn, trying to find comfort in the depths of the blankets, his chill still going strong. Eventually the medicine kicked in, calming his restless limbs, and soon Otacon heard him start to snore.

Work continued on as usual, his laptop the only light in the room as night began to fall. He went to the kitchen at one point to make a ramen cup and grinned when he returned and saw Snake still fast asleep. The medicine had done the trick. Otacon went back to typing, optimistic that his partner would wake in the morning completely restored.

And then he heard the gasping.

Snake lay sprawled on the mattress, hair soaked in fresh sweat. The fever was breaking, but he seemed in pain. He would flinch, forehead knotting up, sucking in great choking gulps of air as if he were suffocating in his sleep. Otacon recognized the signs—another of Snake’s nightmares. This one looked particularly nasty, though definitely not the worst he’d seen. “Snake,” he spoke with practiced tenderness. The last thing he wanted was to rouse him too abruptly and trigger a panic attack. “Snake, it’s all right.” He put a hand on the man’s shoulder and squeezed, but no amount of pressure would work. “Snake. Snake. _Dave_.”

“Nng—” Snake’s eyes flew open and his pupils danced wildly about the room for a few seconds before settling on Otacon. “Jesus…w-was I doing the thing again?”

“Yeah. Are you okay?”

“Yeah…” Snake caught his breath and smeared a hand over his sweat-slick face.

Otacon stood at his bedside, unwilling to just leave him and return to the computer. He watched Snake panting, watched the rise and fall of the blankets. “You wanna talk about it at all?”

“Nah, I barely remember it now.” Snake pushed his palms against his eyes and crinkled his nose with a wet sniff. Otacon couldn’t tell if that was the truth or if Snake was just clamming up. Either way it was an improvement from how he used to answer that question, which involved a lot of frowning and swearing and the occasional shove. But as fragile as Otacon could sometimes be, he never seemed to take it personally. He knew the destructive force of guilt and anger. Knew a little stubborn kindness could go a long way if applied consistently over time. And it had with Snake.

Otacon brushed some of the damp bangs from his patient’s forehead. “Try and go back to sleep, okay?”

Snake shifted on the mattress and eased up onto his elbows. “I would, but I think I’m lying in a puddle.” He rolled out of bed and got to his feet, immediately staggering into the nightstand and nearly knocking the lamp over. Otacon steadied him with a hand on the small of his back and tried not to cringe. Snake’s shirt was drenched in sweat. “I’m good. I’m good. Just—” He exhaled hard. “—got dizzy.”

“You’re probably still kinda dopey from the pills I gave you.”

Acting a bit more balanced now, Snake crossed his arms over his front and peeled the shirt up and over his head. The laptop’s glowing monitor lit up every wet curve of his chest and stomach, and for a split second Otacon had to tell himself not to say “wow” out loud.

Snake scratched at his ribs. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

Otacon found his tongue again enough to reply. “Okay. And I’ll put new sheets down.”

“Thanks.”

Luckily he’d had enough spare time the day before to get some laundry done. Never got around to folding it, though. Otacon pulled the fresh sheets from the dryer and made quick work of the bed, throwing the sweaty set in the wash afterwards. He sat down at the desk and attempted to remember where he’d left off before Snake’s nightmare.

The shower in the adjacent bathroom ran for a while. Snake was typically in and out, taking just enough time to soap himself and maybe shampoo his hair. But being so sick, perhaps he just needed a nice long rinse to help himself feel better. Otacon jabbed his teeth into his bottom lip and concentrated on typing. He didn’t want to dwell on the thought of Snake in the shower. Things were sometimes awkward enough already between them.

They say familiarity breeds contempt, but that couldn’t have been less true for him. And he was starting to grow concerned that all these lingering glances and impure thoughts were indicative of actual attraction to Snake and not just a symptom of two close friends living together with no sexual outlet besides their right hands. That old cartoon gag flashed in Otacon’s mind—the one where a character is so starved he’ll hallucinate that his friend is a chicken drumstick or a juicy steak. That must’ve been all it really boiled down to. Snake, a juicy hallucinated steak. He chuckled to himself, biting down harder on his lip.

He was working too hard.

Otacon checked his phone. Had Snake really been in the shower for a half hour already? Something was wrong.

He went to the door and knocked lightly with the backs of his knuckles. “Snake? You still doing okay in there?”

A few seconds of silence passed and then, weirdly enough, the shower cut off.

“Snake?”

There came the sound of slippery skin against the bathtub, a couple odd grunts, the plastic curtain rustling too loudly and for too long. Finally it went quiet inside.

“Hey, Otacon?”

Otacon gulped and pressed his ear to the door. “Yeah?”

“I need a hand…”

Now Otacon was starting to blush. He scolded himself for being so easily incited. “You mean you want me to come in?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, here I come.” And so Otacon pushed the door open, already shielding his eyes so as not to see anything he wasn’t meant to. Slowly, however, he realized Snake wasn’t standing naked in front of him, he was in the bottom of the tub, arms draped over the edge and legs a jumbled mess. His hair was plastered flat to his head and neck, his whole body flushed pink from the hot water. Had he been showering sitting down? Was he really that weak?

“I can’t, uh…” Snake’s eyes bored holes into the linoleum tile. “My legs won’t…”

The words took hold of Otacon’s chest and squeezed sharp like a bear trap. “Gosh, Snake.” He approached the tub and knelt, still wary of catching an eyeful. Snake’s arm went across his shoulders, warm and heavy, and Otacon grabbed him around the middle. “On three. One, two, three—upsy-daisy. There we go.” He hoisted Snake from the bath and sat him down on the lid of the toilet. Snake pressed his knees together and shivered until Otacon curled a towel around him.

“Thanks for that.”

“No prob.” Otacon leaned back on the sink. His glasses had started to fog up from the latent steam, and he took them off to rub on the hem of his t-shirt.

Snake wheezed out a short laugh. “Upsy-daisy huh.”

Otacon froze mid-rub. “You shut your mouth,” he said, an embarrassed grin tugging hard on his lips. “It just came out.”

Snake was smiling now in spite of his cold shivers. It seemed the hot shower had gone a long way in improving his mood. He drew the towel over his dripping head and scrubbed vigorously until his hair stood up half-dry in every direction. Otacon stifled a laugh of his own.

He helped Snake back to bed and got him some fresh boxers and a shirt from the dryer. “Do you need anything else? Some food maybe?”

Snake sunk slowly into the fresh sheets, his lips parting in a pleasured groan as he stretched out his legs. “Mm, I guess, sure.”

Otacon tried to remember to breathe. Snake had no business making noises like that. “Y-yeah, I’ll go make you something. You just rest, take it easy.”

“You don’t need help?”

“Your help? In the kitchen? Even when you’re healthy I chase you away from the stove.”

Snake smirked and lifted an arm to scratch at his still-damp hair. “Yeah, yeah.”

Otacon left for the kitchen and raided the pantry for something potentially warm and hearty, but the pantry shelves faired about the same as the fridge. Frowning, he grabbed a package of the “nicer” ramen he’d been saving for himself and started a pot of water boiling. In the freezer he found a package of frozen veggies that felt like a brick, and he tore it open and tossed a heaping handful of broccoli and carrots and peas into the water to soften. The pantry may have been bare but his spice rack most certainly was not—lemongrass and chili powder and minced garlic flavored the steam rising from the pot.

Soon enough the noodles and vegetables were cooked, and Otacon poured it all into a deep bowl he usually reserved for ice cream. He brought it into the bedroom and set it down triumphantly on the nightstand. Snake made an interested sound. He tried to lean in close to smell it, his face falling. “I think I’m too stuffed up.”

“That’s okay. Maybe this’ll help.” Otacon fluffed up Snake’s pillows so he could sit up straighter. He sat down on the side of the bed and brought the soup to his lap.

“Except, uh—you know I can’t use chopsticks.”

“I know.” Otacon gripped them effortlessly in his fingers and captured a perfect-sized bite. “Open up.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, am I supposed to just let you dribble all over the clean sheets? I’ve seen you eat.”

Snake considered his point for a moment and then conceded with the hesitant opening of his mouth. Otacon made sure the noodles weren’t dripping and passed them effortlessly to Snake’s awaiting tongue. “Mfmm.” Snake chewed, eyes narrowing as he tried to discern flavors, and his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. “This spaghetti’s weird.”

“Um.” Otacon had to pause entirely to keep himself from laughing. Why did he have to be so darn cute? “Snake, this is ramen.”

“It is? It’s not in the cup.”

“I know, I made this special so it’d be healthier. ‘Cause you’re sick and all.”

“Oh.” Snake licked the broth from his lips. “Well, thanks, it tastes pretty good.”

Otacon beamed and offered him another bite.

By the time half the bowl was empty, the chili powder had started catching up to Snake. His eyes were just a touch pink and wet at the corners, and he kept having to grab tissues off the nightstand to quell his running nose. At least he wasn’t all that congested anymore. He gulped down the very last bite with a contented hum. “That beats the hell outta cold pizza. Maybe I need to start taking you up on your offers to cook me stuff.”

Otacon just blushed and retreated to the kitchen before he said something to embarrass himself. He rinsed the bowl in the sink and brought Snake some ice water when he came back. “Feeling any better?”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Good. You should probably try to get some more sleep while the sun’s still down, though.”

“I guess. Are you gonna stick around in here?”

Otacon went to the desk and moved the mouse to kill the screensaver. “If that’s still okay.”

“Yeah.” Snake wriggled down into the covers and rested his forearm across his eyes. “You ever gonna sleep?”

“Nah, I can pull an all-nighter. I’ll watch over you.”

Snake peeked at him, a lone blue eye peering out from the shadow beneath his arm. His unshaven face brightened in a slight smile. “You always do.”

 

* * *

 

The sun had been up nearly four hours by the time Snake woke naturally. He rose from the depths of the pillows, still achy but otherwise feeling fine. No fever, no congestion. He spied Otacon with his head down on his arms, computer screen black and deep in hibernate mode. Swinging his legs over the side of the mattress, he went to Otacon’s side and shook his shoulder. “Hey. Don’t you wanna sleep in a bed? Otacon?”

Otacon moaned as he realized he was waking up. He wrenched his head off his forearms, blinking hard without his glasses. “Snake…?” His voice cracked out of him like an old radio.

“You look awful.”

“Shit…” Otacon sniffled and grabbed for his glasses. He raked fingers through his sweat-damp hair and coughed until his cheeks went pink. “Ohh…I _feel_ awful. You gave me your bug, didn’t you?”

“Sorry.” Snake couldn’t help but grin. “If it’s any consolation, it looks like it was only a weird twenty-four-hour thing.”

“Sure, for _you_. Mister Super Soldier over here.” Another round of rattling coughs drained his energy quick, and soon all Otacon could do was sit back in his chair and sigh. “We still have that orange juice?”

Snake nodded. “I’ll get you some.” He went to the kitchen and poured a glass, noting that there was maybe only half a glass left in the jug. He’d have to venture into town later to get more supplies, especially if Otacon was going to be laid up for the rest of the day, if not longer.

Otacon was sniffling and typing away when Snake returned with the juice. “Thanks, you can just set that anywhere.”

“Why are you working?”

“What do you mean? I have things to do.”

Snake puffed out a little angry breath. “You made _me_ stop working when I was sick. Now close the laptop, you’re going to sleep after you drink this OJ.”

“You’re kidding, right? I don’t have time for that.” The monitor folded down fast, almost catching his fingertips. “Ah! Snake, what the hell? It hadn’t autosaved yet.”

“You’re drinking this juice and you’re getting some sleep in an actual bed.”

“Don’t be stupid,I can’t—”

Snake snatched his wrist in a firm grip and pressed the orange juice into his open fingers. “Drink the juice. Go to sleep. I’ll pick you up and put you in your damn bedroom if I have to.”

Otacon gulped, the rising pink in his cheeks more than just the oncoming fever. He did as Snake ordered, glancing over his shoulder in the doorway. “Can I at least bring my—”

“No.” Snake came up behind him and took control of his shoulders, leading him straight into his bedroom.

He’d been sitting in Snake’s room for so long he forgot his was so cold by comparison. He shivered and sat on the bed and sipped his juice obediently. Snake went to the closet and found one of the several old quilts the previous tenants had left behind, spreading it out over the mattress with a great flourish.

“C’mon,” Snake said, his tone still so commanding. He turned down the blankets and motioned for Otacon to get in. Otacon left his jeans in a heap on the floor, ignoring the fever chill that crawled up his spine, and got into bed. He hated how right Snake was. He really did need to sleep so, so badly. Maybe some part of himself had just wanted Snake to force him.

Snake fluffed the pillows for him and tugged the blankets right to his chin. Otacon sniffled and coughed into the back of his hand. “Thanks, Snake.”

“Sure. You need any meds? You’re kinda shaky like you got a chill.”

Otacon shook his head no, but he could sense his health declining by the minute. His neck and jaw ached and felt tender as he moved, and it hurt just to breathe. “I gave you the last ones. I’ll be fine though, this quilt’s pretty warm.”

“Like hell,” Snake snorted. “I’ll make a quick trip into town. Forty minutes, tops.” He turned from the bed to go, but Otacon snagged the hem of his tee with a few fingers. “What? What is it?”

“Go later. Maybe you could…stay here? With me? Just until I fall asleep.”

Snake’s expression softened around the edges. He sighed and the roughness left his voice. “Yeah,” he said. “Okay. Scoot over.”

“Huh?” Otacon yelped as Snake got in beside him under the covers, the bedframe creaking under their combined weight. Snake reclined on the headboard and peered over at Otacon, whose face had brightened to an alarming shade of red. “H-hey, just what the heck do you think you’re doing?”

“Staying here? With you?”

“I meant in the room, not in the bed.”

Snake’s brow furrowed as comprehension eventually dawned on him. “Ohh.” He started to slide his legs out from the confines of the blankets, but again, Otacon held him back by his shirt.

“But, uh…you can stay. If you want, I mean. Y-you’re nice and warm, like a hot water bottle or something.”

Snake actually laughed at that, an amused grin reaching his eyes and putting a shine in those blue irises that made Otacon’s heart leap. “You played nurse for me all day and all night,” he said. He nestled in up against Otacon’s side and rested an arm over the tops of the pillows. “I guess the least I could do is play hot water bottle for you.”

Warm and cozy and nervous and happy, Otacon managed to doze off despite his mounting illness. And he was already asleep by the time Snake set his glasses on the nightstand and planted a kiss in his mop of tangled hair.

“Sleep good, Hal.”


End file.
